


After The End

by blueberryfallout



Category: Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart
Genre: Angst, F/M, Manipulation, Post-Movie, Pregnancy, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: oh man so what if after the end of the movie joe came back and manipulated acacia into a relationship? i dunno it seemed likely but i'm p sure no one is in this fandom so it doesn't matter! enjoy :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh man so what if after the end of the movie joe came back and manipulated acacia into a relationship? i dunno it seemed likely but i'm p sure no one is in this fandom so it doesn't matter! enjoy :)

Jack’s skin has barely turned cold before Joe is there; she would recognize him even without glasses, the razor sharpness of him, that coal black hair. Even with his eye patch he’s so handsome, peering down at her as she slides her glasses up her nose. Joe, her oldest and most faithful friend. Acacia has always been able to trust him. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asks in that low voice of his, offering a hand to help her up. She takes it, his long fingers chilly against her own, and lets him wipe tears from her cheek once she’s been pulled to her feet. Joe, always so rough, is unbearably gentle with her; she barely feels his touch. 

“Jack is…Jack is gone,” she murmurs, looking up at the sky. He’s nowhere to be seen, and Acacia looks back to Joe again. “You came back for me.” 

“I will always come back for you,” he swears, serious as ever, and turns to escort her down the long hill back to town. Snow flecks the black fabric of his coat, melting quickly even against his constant chill, and Acacia smiles despite her new grief. No matter what, she always has Joe.  
*  
*  
*  
The first time Joe reaches for her and Acacia sprouts thorns, startled, he draws back with a frown. “You would refuse me?” he asks, hurt. They’re alone in a hotel room, and somewhere in the back of her mind Acacia is aware that this is highly improper. If this were Jack, he would’ve rented separate rooms, no matter the cost. But this is Joe, and Joe has always taken liberties. 

Like right now, as he sways into her space, backing her against the hotel wall. She stares up at him, blinking rapidly, something nervous and hot in the pit of her stomach. “ _I could never refuse you_ ,” she sings softly, willing her thorns to retreat. It’s just Joe. What threat could he be?

“ _And I’ll use you_ ,” he sings back, “ _I will use you how I wish._ ” The breath catches in her throat as he brushes her cheek with the backs of his fingers, dark lurking behind his face. She glances away, stares at the delicate hollow of his throat and purses her lips. “I would never hurt you, Miss Acacia,” he swears, taking a step back. “There’s no need to defend yourself from me.” 

“I know that,” she promises. And she does. She _does_.  
*  
*  
*  
“I wish you would stop talking about him,” Joe snaps when Acacia is recounting the tale of the first time she met Jack, in that square in the town; Jack was just a blur then, a blur with a pleasant voice and a curious tick.

“About Jack?” Acacia questions; they’re on a train, speeding towards Acacia’s next show. Joe’s sitting across from her, his long legs sprawled out and on to the seat beside her thigh, and there’s something distracting about the arch of his neck, paler than alabaster. Acacia shakes herself, frowning. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“He left you behind, didn’t he?” Joe’s watching her from under his bangs, and Acacia is eerily reminded of being prey. “He died, and he didn’t have to. Not really. He could’ve chosen not to love you. It would’ve been easy.” 

“Am I so difficult to love?” Acacia asks, suddenly worried.

Joe shrugs, disinterested. “Sometimes. I’m the only one who’s stuck around, aren’t I?” Her parents, gone. Jack, gone. Joe has remained. 

Acacia takes her glasses off and stares out the window so he can’t see the tears in her eyes. “Yes, you are. Thank you.” She doesn’t notice Joe’s satisfied smirk behind her.  
*  
*  
*  
To Jack, Acacia was a sprite, a bright spark that was impossible to catch. He tried anyway. To Joe, Acacia feels like a doll as he moves her where he wants her, his hands firm and confident. She remembers the feel of Jack’s hand on her ankle as he kept her from flying off, but his skin was softer than Joe’s, his hands smaller.

Back then, it felt like anything and everything was possible. Now, all she knows is endless train rides and the grey brick of every city they travel through. She knows the black suit Joe wears every day, knows watching him remove it to show the creamy white shirt underneath, the sharp angles of his bones through the fabric. 

Nothing about Joe is inviting or soft, but he brings her in anyway, turning her inside and out so whenever they argue she’s left questioning whether she’s truly the one who’s been wronged. But Joe knows what’s best for her, Acacia reminds herself. Joe has always known what’s best.  
*  
*  
*  
The first time Joe kisses her, it’s almost not a surprise. It’s been a year since Jack died, a year and Acacia still hums their song whenever Joe is too far away to hear. She remembers the time she told Jack about her parent’s betrayal, and laying in the snow til even her eyes froze, ice frosting on her irises. The only time she ever felt warm after that was when Jack took her hand.

Now, Joe looms over her in a train station, crowds of people flowing behind them. All Acacia can feel is his cold hand on her hip, the other loosely gripping the back of her neck. Goosebumps rise wherever he touches, and they’re not all from the chill.

He tilts her head back and kisses Acacia like he’s drinking from her, hungry. She’s dizzy, confused, still a little loopy from sleeping on the train. She grabs onto his hair, not sure whether she’s going to push him away or pull him closer, and allows him to bite at her mouth until she feels raw. He pulls back without expression, staring down at her. 

“I…Joe…” 

“Come along,” he orders, entwining their fingers and pulling her along, towards where their train is about to set off. Acacia can barely hear him over the pounding of her own, flesh and blood heart.  
*  
Later on, in yet another hotel room, Joe reaches for her, fingers dragging through the fabric of her dress, pulling it from her shoulder until she’s almost bared. “Joe!” she gasps, reaching to pull her collar up. His gaze lands somewhere in the dip of her collarbones, more present than usual. “You can’t-” 

“You didn’t use the thorns on me,” he interrupts, trailing his fingers over her bared shoulder. Her skin prickles awake to follow his touch, confusion and heat mixing in her chest. “When I kissed you. You could’ve stopped me then, but you didn’t. Why are you trying to stop me now?” 

“I…” 

He leans in to whisper, so close their faces are touching, the star on her cheek pressed to his skin. “I think, you don’t want to stop me.” His hand moves to her other sleeve, still holding her dress up, and tugs down. Helpless to resist, Acacia allows it, allows him to move her like she’s in a dream. “Are you saying no, Miss Acacia?”

“No?” He draws back, face hardening, but Acacia only meant…she didn’t…She owes Joe, the only one who hasn’t left. And she did let him kiss her. “I wasn’t saying no,” she finally says, and closes her eyes against Joe’s victorious grin.  
*  
She wakes up weeping, from dreams of ticking clocks and a boy who was sparrow-thin. When she rolls over it’s to quiet, to Joe’s pale skin and the long bare expanse of his back. He breathes deeply, fast asleep. Even now he keeps his eye patch on. 

She has a single, jarring moment where he’s smaller, red haired, and everything is right for a single perfect moment before he’s Joe again. “Acacia?” he slurs, so much less formal when it’s this early in the morning. She’s sore and still teary, but she lets him pull her close and kiss the top of her head. Within moments he’s asleep again as Acacia stares at the ceiling.  
*  
*  
She doesn’t even think about saying no when he asks her to marry him. Who else does she have? As she stares up at his eye and wonders when she stopped wearing bright colors, Acacia realizes that she never really had any other choice. She was always going to end up here.


	2. Tied In

They get married in the next town they stop at; Acacia wears gray, doesn’t feel she deserves a purer color. She had such plans when she was young, when she still had Jack.

She looks down at her hands, dwarfed in Joe’s to hide their shaking as he slides a ring on her finger. “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” drones the priest. He was dug up from somewhere by Joe, seems uninterested by this marriage in an empty church, by the tears that tremble in Acacia’s voice.

“I do,” she says without hesitation, holding Joe’s flat black stare. She never has any doubts about Joe, not…not real ones. He wets his lips, intense, as the priest declares them wed and leaves, dropping their marriage certificates on the nearby pews. Acacia has never seen so much disinterest in her life.

Acacia turns back to Joe as he tilts his head, their lips meeting with a soft sound, his fingers curling around the back of her head to hold her tight. “You’re mine now,” he whispers between their mouths, then licks possessively inside her, behind her teeth.

Acacia allows it, curls her fingers uncertainly at the lapels of his suit. “I’m yours,” she promises, thinking of a different man with red hair, when the world wasn’t swathed in shades of gray. Now, today, Acacia holds tight to what she has left.  
+  
+  
+  
Joe’s inside her; too big, too much bigger than her so it’s almost overwhelming, makes Acacia’s thighs shake with confusion. She’s making soft noises into his throat, hurt and pleasure all mixed into one, when he curls a hand around her neck. Is he going to choke her, Acacia wonders? Would she even stop him? It’s Joe. _Her_ Joe. 

“What can I do to make you happy?” he breathes, pressing shaky kisses to her cheek and sweaty forehead. _Give me Jack back_ , she wants to say, wants to claw it into his shoulders. But of course, it’s not Joe’s fault that Jack’s gone. It’s Acacia’s. She won’t lose another. “Anything,” Joe promises, lost in her, gentle like he rarely is. 

“Don’t leave me,” Acacia asks, her eyes fluttering shut. She can pretend he’s someone else now, almost. Joe is too much himself to disappear entirely. 

“Never,” he swears, kissing her open mouth. “I will never leave your side.” Acacia isn’t sure why she wants to scream even as his reassurance bleeds into her chest, warming it. She wraps her legs around his waist and holds on. 

He tangles their hands together, their rings clinking. A honeymoon in a motel, Acacia thinks to herself. It isn’t grand, it’s gray. But Joe’s here, watching her eyes roll back as she starts floating into ecstasy, her hips flexing towards his. “Don’t… _don’t_ …” she chokes, not sure what she’s asking for. Whatever it is, Joe doesn’t listen.  
+  
+  
+  
When Acacia falls pregnant she thinks, for the briefest of seconds, about aborting it. And then of course she’s horrified at herself, touching the plane of her belly where it’s still flat. She would never do that, she loves Joe. She _has_ to. Even so, her thorns sprout up to curl around her shoulders in a protective fence as Acacia holds the pregnancy test between trembling fingers. Joe has no parents, and Acacia’s are dead. What will they do with a child? Acacia tries to imagine herself cradling a small boy with Joe’s sharp features, feels an unexpected stab of warmth. 

“Acacia? Are you alright in there?” Joe asks, rapping on the bathroom door, his voice sharp with impatience. That’s right, Acacia had almost forgotten. They need to catch their train. 

“ _I’m quite alright, no need for a fright_ ,” she sings through the door, pulling her skirts up to her waist. She’ll have to start letting them out soon. 

“ _Come out, come out, or there will be a fight_ ,” he sings back, low. Acacia shivers, opens the door to see Joe looming there, his fist raised to knock again.

“I’m fine, see?” she snaps, brushing past him. His hand grabs her wrist, holds her there. 

“Your thorns are out,” he says, pricking his finger on one. She watches the blood drip down his skin, disappear behind the cuffs of his suit. He doesn’t appear to care.

“Just a stomachache,” she lies, tugging til he lets go. 

“If you say so,” he answers, doubtful.

“I do.” She turns her back so he can’t see her frown as she starts folding clothes. The pregnancy test lies forgotten in the trash.  
+  
An hour later, they’re on the train and Acacia is crying. She knows why; she’s overwhelmed by a slightly too crowded train, by having to run here. She’s tired and moody and her feet hurt, all swollen up inside her boots. Everything is too _much_ , even Joe as he stares at her with a shadow of concern in his face.

“What is wrong with you? You’ve been…” He hesitates, trying to describe her moodiness without offending her. Acacia appreciates that, smiling as she wipes tears away. “You’ve been sadder,” he says finally. Sadder even than usual, Acacia thinks to herself.

This just makes her cry harder; she babbles out “Sorry, I’m sorry,” as the other passengers stare, Joe shifting to block their judgmental view. 

“Acacia,” he murmurs, brushing a tear from her face. “I hate to see you cry.” 

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, biting her lip soon as the words slip out. 

His hand drops from her face; she looks up to see him stunned, any remaining color bleaching from his face. “W-What?” 

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats. “About three months along, I think.” Already her thorns are sprouting, prepared for a rejection. 

Instead, Joe breaks into an honest, wide smile, an expression she’s never seen on his face. He pulls her into his lap, uncaring of the other passengers, splays a hand over her belly. “A baby,” he whispers, holding her steady.

“A baby,” she agrees, swept up in his excitement. “Can we name it Jack?” she asks, knowing immediately she’s asked the wrong thing. His eyes narrow, hands clutching til she knows she’ll bruise. “We can call him Jacky,” she rushes to reassure, stroking his hair back, kissing his cheekbone, reminding him, “ _Our_ baby.”

“Fine,” he grunts, probably too happy to disagree. She buries her face in his thick hair and smiles.  
+  
+  
+  
“Why do you miss him so much?” Joe husks, slowly buttoning his shirt as Acacia tells a story about the time Jack showed up in her cabin. She watches white flesh disappear behind even whiter fabric, til Joe’s covered to the throat. “He made you a murderer.” 

Startled, she glances up at his impassive face. “What?”

“He died because he loved you.” Acacia remembers standing outside her trailer, begging Jack to stop lying to her, telling him he couldn’t force her to kill him. His heart had ticked softly in the background. 

“I…” 

“Or maybe he didn’t love you enough to stay alive,” Joe says, casual, shrugging his jacket over his boney shoulders. Acacia bites hard at her lower lip, splaying her fingers over the swollen curve of her belly. Joe’s been temperamental since her pregnancy started showing, either achingly kind or cruel. Acacia’s not sure what she hates more; when he says things like this, or when she wakes to his fingers brushing her cheek, a look of wonder on his face. He stoops to land a kiss on her forehead, and leaves without a goodbye.  
+  
+  
+  
When Jacky, their son, is five, he comes to Acacia where she’s making a new dress and kneels at her feet, resting his head against her leg. Jacky is her best thing, the only good thing. He has such dark hair, just like his father’s, a splash of ink falling over his forehead, all angles where others would have some give. Even now she can see him as a grown man, a copy of his father.

“When you and dad met, was it love at first sight?” he asks, innocent of the way her lips tighten.

“Of course it was, dear,” she says, thinking of Jack in Edinburgh when everything was possible. “Your father has always loved me.” Joe watches her from under the brim of his hat, eyes narrowing. He loves Jacky, in his own way. Just like he loves her. 

“And you love him, Mama?” 

Acacia’s chest constricts til she can’t breath, thorns blossoming to protect her from a threat that will never go away. She scrubs at her eyes with one hand. “Yes, my love. I love him very much.” Under the hat, Joe smirks, victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're done here lol


	3. Trains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuckin...they were supposed to be 14 in the movie? ridiculous. literally only learned this as i was writing this specific chapter and looked up the characters to see if they had last names. just pretend they were like 18-19 as i assumed them to be, i guess. sorry, guys!

“You didn’t think you could run away from me, Miss Acacia.” Even after these years of marriage, he still sometimes calls her Miss. Like she could ever forget they’re married. She turns to him, shifting on her bench, looking away from the train tracks.

“I wasn’t trying to run from you, Joe.” 

He’s directly in front of her with one long stride, taking her chin in one hand, squeezing til she winces. “You would have made it this time, if our son didn’t ask where you were.” Joe will never understand that she’s not trying to run, when she comes to the station and watches the trains for hours. She just wants some peace. A dream, perhaps. Like she had when she was younger. Her thorns sprout, making him snatch his hand away with a hiss, sucking the blood from his palm. She rubs at her jaw, and they exchange glares for a moment before he softens, reaching out his other hand. “Acacia…my love. My wife.” She takes his hand, because it’s _Joe_. He’s only ever meant the best for her. He crouches, sending her swaying back so he can rest his chin on the back of the bench, watching her with that dark, dark eye. “What can I do to make you happy?”

Like the night of their wedding, when he asked that same question, Acacia has no answer. She looks to the side, past him, and he shifts to hold her eyes again. Never one to let Acacia off easy, is her Joe. “Where’s Jacky?” she asks instead of answering. 

“He’s at home. Asleep again. Where you should be.” _With me_ , is the unspoken rest of his sentence. 

“I’m not tired,” she says, though of course she is. Her eyelids flutter as he rubs a gentle thumb just below her right eye, over the thin skin. She has terrible bags there, of late. She sleeps badly. Has nightmares, and Joe will hold her in the dark, whisper kindnesses he would never say during the day. 

“Come home with me,” he says, getting to his feet. Acacia just looks up at him, blinking bleary eyes. The sun rose an hour ago, rose as much as it could. It always seems to be grey now. “Come home,” he says again, stooping to pick her up like a bride. Of course. 

She rests her cheek against his heart, hearing it beat. She’s so much smaller than him, it’s easy for Joe to tow her around if he wants. She thinks of gentle, kind Jack and turns her head into Joe’s chest, sniffing. He kisses the top of her head. This is enough to make her smile. 

Their apartment is near enough for an easy walk; they stopped travelling when Jacky began talking. Acacia wanted somewhere solid, where he could go to school. He will go to the same school his father went to, the same one Jack went to. Joe won’t talk of the time they spent there together. She sometimes goes to the tree where Jack died, to sit under it and think of certain possibilities.

As Joe takes the stairs to their apartment, seemingly unbothered by her weight, Acacia curls her fingers into the front of his shirt. Snowy white as always, but he didn’t bother to put a jacket on. He’s ever so slightly damp from the mist outside, and Acacia feels suddenly guilty. What if Joe catches cold? Succumbs to it? Another person she cannot bear to lose. 

“You should get warm,” she murmurs. His glance down is amused, and as usual, he’s read her thoughts. 

“Afraid I’ll get sick? No worries. _I’ll be okay_ ,” he sings under his breath. They’ve reached the apartment, and he pushes the door open with a shoulder, then kicks it closed with the back of his foot once they’re inside. 

“ _To live another day, another day?_ ” she sings in turn, hoping not to wake Jacky.

“ _So long as you stay_ ,” he answers, something dark in his face. He releases Acacia to her feet, steadying her when she wobbles. 

“Still in your high heels,” he says. There’s a fond smile tipping up his mouth. 

“A lady wears heels,” she responds primly.

“You’re no lady.” Acacia thinks of Joe’s mouth on her neck, before they were even married! Of living with him for months. She blushes. Joe is right. She is indeed no lady. But it seems that Joe isn’t in the mood to be cruel today, because he just laughs and gently pinches her cheek, then lets go to guide her to the kitchen table.

She sits, and he brings her one of her soft, gauzy shawls to drape over her shoulders. For a moment, he leaves his hands there and squeezes. He’s always more touchy when he thinks she’s trying to run. She sometimes believes that Joe would like nothing more than to cage her up like a bird and keep her there, his forever. She sometimes believes that she wouldn’t mind. To be so safe, so wanted, is comforting. 

She tips her chin up, resting the back of her head against Joe’s stomach. He looks down at her with sharp features; their son is beginning to resemble him more and more every day. It makes it easier to be with Joe, when she sees in him the thing she loves most. Although, Joe is probably the thing she loves second most. 

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he says, phrasing it as a question. She nods. He strips his wet shirt off, and she eyes his pale skin, his whipcord frame, with some satisfaction. Acacia has not married an ugly man. 

He is quiet as he brews the thick, black coffee they both love, then butters the bread she bought at market yesterday. Acacia still hasn’t made friends in the neighborhood. They’ve only been living here for a little less than a year. And Acacia has never made friends easily. “She’s an odd one, with that ghoulish husband of hers,” Acacia heard their neighbor say the other day, unaware Acacia was on her balcony. She misses the easy camaraderie of the circus.

“Mama?” Jacky has woken up; he stands in the opening to their hallway, rubbing at his eyes. She smiles at his stuck-up hair. Like Joe, his hair seems to do what it wants, always standing up in spiky black. 

“Come to breakfast,” she says, opening her arms. She’s so grateful that he’s still young enough to come easily to her, pushing his cold nose into her collarbones. She pulls him up onto her lap, taking comfort from his solid little body. “Did you sleep well, darling?”

He shrugs, reaching for one of her leftover crusts. She loves her son when he’s sleepy like this, all soft warmth and affection. “Weren’t there when I had dreams,” he grumbles. She kisses his hair, making a questioning noise. “You left,” he says, accusing, sounding eerily like Joe. So Joe was telling the truth. Jacky did wake up, and looked for her. She exchanges glances with Joe.

“Maman had an errand to run,” Joe lies, beginning to make the hot chocolate that Jacky drinks every morning. He has been a better father than she unfairly expected him to be. Jacky wants for nothing, even affection. 

“She wasn’t there,” Jacky sulks. Acacia cuddles him closer, guilt unfurling in her chest. Luckily, Jacky is easily soothed by a dollop of whipped cream on his hot chocolate, and Acacia’s promise that she’ll take him to the park later. Jacky loves the park, gets along with other children far better than she or Joe did. 

Sometimes, she thinks his personality takes after his namesake. Jack had a gift for charming people, too. And of course, four year olds are more forgiving than adults. 

She thumbs a spot of jam away from his chin, licking it off her thumb, and again, so grateful that he just accepts this mothering. She’s seen how difficult older children can be, and she wants to treasure this sweetness as long as possible. 

She glances at Joe, who is absorbed in his coffee and paper. She hadn’t only been at the train station to have peace. She had been there to think, and to plan. It’s an early Saturday morning, however, and judging by the yawns they’ve been stifling, they’re all still tired. 

“Would you like to go back to bed, my love?” she asks Jacky, who has been nodding off into her shoulder for the last few minutes. He nods, so she hefts him up and stands. A good breakfast and some more sleep won’t harm anyone. Acacia is sure she’s not a strict enough mother, but neither were her parents. Acacia can only do what she knows. 

Jacky is still small enough that she can carry him back to his little room and the bed that she keeps piled high with blankets. He is loose with sleep as she settles him into the bed with the covers tucked up to his chin. It’s spring, but it’s early spring, and children so easily catch cold.

“Song, please,” he mumbles into his pillow, clutching at her hand with chubby fingers that she kisses, one by one. 

“Just one song,” she says, sitting back with his hand still in hers. “ _There was a little bird, and one day I think he heard, a very silly word…_ ”

+

When Jacky is firmly asleep, his fingers lax in hers, Acacia leaves him with a kiss on the forehead to go back to her own bed. Their apartment isn’t lavish, but it’s warm, and spacious enough with its two bedrooms and kitchen, the little bathroom and tub that Acacia lets Jacky splash around in.

And her bed is lovely. Heaped with pillows, with blankets. Warm, especially with Joe in it as he is now. He lies on his back, one arm over his head. His clothes are strewn around on the floor, which annoys her. She’ll clean it up later.

Now, she shimmies her dress off, leaves it draped over the armchair in the corner with her shawl. Joe shifts when she climbs in next to him, mutters something that sounds like her name. “Joe,” she says, putting her hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall. He wakes, looks at her.

“Are you going to run again?” he asks, putting his hand over hers. She shakes her head. Satisfied, he looks back up at the ceiling.

“I want something.” 

This is rare enough to earn her his full attention. 

“I want…I want another baby.” 

His eyes widen, but he’s too stoic to allow his face to show anything more. Instead, he takes her wrist, raises it to his mouth, kisses once, twice. “Anything you want,” he promises, with intent in his dark eyes. She smiles, and kisses his cruel mouth. He’s gentler than usual as he bites once, moves his head to kiss at the spot on her neck that he can’t seem to resist. “You smell good. Like us,” he says into her skin, which she isn’t expecting. Joe doesn’t usually say soft things when they’re doing this.

She kisses his hair, and then his ear. When he’s inside her it hurts, still. Acacia’s too small for it to be otherwise. She’s learned to take some strange pleasure from the pain, however. She climbs with him, wrapping her legs around his waist, clutching him close to her, wanting to be inside of him as he is in her. She finishes before him, whimpering, digging her nails into the back of his neck, feeling his satisfied smirk on her skin before he groans himself. 

She looks at him, after, feeling affection bloom in her chest. “My Joe,” she says, touching his heated cheek, thumb brushing the eyepatch he never takes off. Jack had hurt him so badly. But Joe has Acacia, and so he won in the end, she assumes. 

“ _My wife, my life_ ,” he sings at her. Acacia is sated, and full in more ways than one, and everyone she loves who’s still alive is safe. She takes Joe’s hand, settles it between her breasts to keep her warm, and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got a little friskier with this one lol and apparently i'm incapable of ending something with total angst. whatevs tho. if you like this, and you want to read actual porn i've written, go check out pleasesir. no cuckoo clock porn. yet. i did boop this lil guy up to mature tho! also also those little songs end up being the hardest thing to write. annoying.


End file.
